Head Up Back Straight Deep Breathe And Go
by OfficialUSMWriter
Summary: Little do they know that beneath this mask there is a broken soul. Little do they know, that behind these jokes is a broken heart. Little do they know that I'm not whole. Little do they know that I'm falling apart. ["The Amazing Spider-Man" Movies.] Heavy angst.


**Look at that! I can do more than write Ultimate Spider-Man XD Enjoy some TASM angst.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own "The Amazing Spider-Man" #1 or #2. *solute to Sony and Marvel***

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Little do they know,

That beneath this mask there is a broken soul.

Little do they know,

That behind these jokes is a broken heart.

Little do they know.

That I'm not whole.

Little do they know.

That I'm falling apart.

 **/3**

Head up. Back straight. Deep breath. And go.

There's a gunshot, and a body hits the pavement. Blood pools on the sidewalk, running through the cracks and falling off the edges. I should've been there. I should've stopped it. I _could've_ stopped it.

At first there was only grief. The guilt felt over-whelming and claustrophobic, and the prospect of moving on was as obtainable as catching a bullet.

But then, there was anger. The man that did this was still out there, trapped in an abandoned warehouse and barely out of the reach of the police. I didn't even think as I pulled on the mask and followed the shriek of sirens and flashing light.

I slip through a window. Where is he? I knew he's there. He can't hide from me!

I search, looking in every nook and crevice -THERE. Right there, by the window. He's watching the police, waiting for a chance to escape. Which is why he never expected me. I came out of nowhere, grabbing him by the shirt. I punched him, and I punch him, again and again and again, trying to make him feel as much pain I did. My fist closes around his neck, and I'm ready to end this. End the pain. Mend the decaying edges.

But then...

But then...light from a helicopter comes through the window, and for the second time, I see that face.

Him. The man I let go. I helped him. He shot Uncle Ben. I could have stopped him, but I didn't. I helped him shoot Uncle Ben. Guilt inundates me, only it's different this time. It sharper, and wider, and it _hurts_ so much more. I almost drop the murderer. He whimpers pathetically, begging me to let him go. But did he let Uncle Ben go? Did he just walk away when he had the chance?

 _No!_

I slam him into the wall, and he gasps, clawing at my hands for a chance to breathe. "You killed that man out of cold blood," I told him, surprised with the cold voice I hear. "You didn't show him mercy, so why shouldn't I do the same for you?"

He whimpers again, and apologizes, and begs, and pleads. But it only makes me angrier. His words were useless. His words won't bring Uncle Ben back. His words won't make the pain go away. His words won't fix what I did.

But...but neither would killing him.

I slowly unpin him from the wall, and he gasps and coughs, but my grip on him doesn't slacken. I glare at him through the white lenses, praying that he understood how much I despised him. How much I still wanted to hurt him. And how much I hated myself because of it.

Uncle Ben would be disappointed.

I wrap the murderer in a web and leave him for the police.

It's sunny on the day of Uncle Parkers funeral, but it felt cold. Aunt May is crying, clutching my arm as if to be sure I wouldn't be going anywhere either. I won't - can't - leave her alone. Not after this. Not when it still hurts.

The ceremony feels like it's over before its begun, and soon everyone is heading home. Aunt May and I are the last ones standing, staring at a fresh grave. Then Aunt May leaves, and I'm left there alone.

I kneel, and talk to him. My voice cracks as I tell him everything that happened, and I don't realize I'm crying until my cheeks feel cold. I beg him to forgive me, somehow, someway. _Please forgive me. I didn't mean to let you die…_

I leave a yellow rose at his grave, because he loved them so much. My shoulders feel heavy, weighed down by all the guilty that settles there. At home, I stare at the mask, and the hate for its design, its color, its very creation, cuts me inside and I _bleed_. This was all a mistake. I never should've put it on. Why - why did I have to tempt fate?

But that's when I realize it. There are other people are out there getting hurt. How many Uncle Ben's had to die tonight? How many Aunt May's had to feel that grief? How many Peter Parkers had to go to bed, bleeding inside? I have to do something, I can't let it happen to them. If not for myself, then for Uncle Ben.

I put my mask back on, I grab my web-shooters, because with great power comes great responsibility. The guilt weighs me down, but I can't look down to help those who've fallen until I've reached the peak I need to climb.

Head up, because there's someone out there who needs you.

 _Head up._

 **/3**

I should've been more careful. _Why couldn't I have been better?_

I should have fought harder, thought smarter, been faster. Maybe I could've gotten the cure faster, and he'd be safe. He saved me. I wish I could return the favor.

The Lizard had not held back. Captain Stacy was covered in blood, broken and sprawled on the roof. He held tight to his chest, face twisted into one of pain. I try to stop the bleeding, I press my hands to the wound, and I have to remind myself that it wasn't a bullet this time. Gwen needs him, he can't die.

But it doesn't help. His eyes find mine, and we know he won't last much longer. But - but I have to try anyway. I _have_ to. He's depending on me, Gwen's depending on me, this city _depends on me._

Please, Captain Stacy, _please._

He grabs my hands instead. "Stay away from Gwen," he whispers, raw and hoarse. "Leave her out of it." His words hurt, the truth hurts, but he's gone, and that hurts _worse._

It's only me now, holding the corpse of Captain George Stacy. He can't be dead! No, he can't be! No, no, no, no, no, no, NO! I've failed him, I've failed Gwen. Please come back Captain Stacy, you can't leave your family. Not like this. I'm not sure when I leave. The look on Gwen's face when I tell her...

The look on her face...

 _I'm sorry I couldn't save him._

I watch the funeral from a distance, afraid to disrespect the ceremony with my presence. I watch as they lay him down, another fresh grave. I see tears, I see pain, and grief.

He's right, I need to stay away from Gwen. I can't let her end up like that too. I stand on the edge and jump. I hold my breath, staring at the impact coming up. Then I exhale and shoot the web.

Deep breath, because when you breathe someone else continues breathing too.

 _Deep breath._

 **/3**

I never wanted it to end up like this.

I wanted to help him, but what could I have done? He was my best friend, but what he wanted - what he asked me to do...

It doesn't matter, because I failed him too.

We fight and fight and fight, but Harry won't give in. "You betrayed me," he yells, "I thought you were my friend, Peter. You _said_ we were friends."

We are friends Harry, we _are_. Aren't we?

I guess not.

He doesn't look good. His skin is pale and faded, with long lines of green veins forming ranges across his skin. He wears a battle suit, he rides a glider, and he looks insanely happy doing it. Was there something I could've done to prevent this? Could there have been a way to keep that gleeful hatred from his eyes?

Of course there was. Of course. There was always a way I could've done better. Why - why, why, _why_ _didn't I look hard enough?!_ He's right, I just betrayed my best friend?

Is there still a way to help?

At the end of the day, Harry is locked up. Does that - is that the way to help? But the ache in my chest is still there, so maybe not. _Please_ , I want to beg, _please make it go away_. I want to help, I _promise,_ I do. I want to _help_ ….I just - I just don't know how.

Maybe I should give up. I want go home, I want to hide. No matter what I do, how I act, there's no end to my mistakes. But I can't do this. I'm hurting people.

But - but maybe not. Children got to go home, husbands and wifes got to find their families safe and sound inside their house, because of me. There were no Captain Stacy's tonight.

Don't slouch, shoulders back, become a soldier. War is now your life.

Back straight, because people need you to be strong.

 _Back straight._

 **/3**

I was wrong. There was a Captain Stacy tonight.

He was right, I should've stayed away.

It was her father's dying wish to stay away from Gwen Stacy. It was my responsibility to keep her safe from harm. It was supposed to be a simple task, but it was _impossible_. Gwen made the trouble go away. She healed the pain, I couldn't stay away.

 _Look where that got you_ , I spit at myself. _Go on, look!_

But I can barely glance at the faces of the devastated Stacy family, without needing to fall on my knees and beg for their forgiveness. Even if I didn't deserve it. First their father, now Gwen too. Life is so unfair.

The sound it made when she hit the bottom. It wasn't going away. It was an echo that got louder and louder, finding a way into my nightmares, stalking me during the day. Webslinging was so much harder now. Every time the web flew through the air, everytime the small hiss from the cartridges let the fluid go, it became the hum of a glider, and I saw her. The _thwip_ became a _SNAP_ and I have to stop to keep myself from throwing up.

So close, I was so close to saving her. If I had been _faster_ , if I had been _smarter,_ if I had _better,_ she would be here with me. Why do I keep _doing_ this? When will I learn my lesson? I can't even look at the mask without wanting to tear it shreds, so why do I keep up this charade?

I didn't save her. Out of all of the people in New York, it was Gwen Stacy whom I couldn't save in the end.

I stowed the suit in my closet, under the iron walls of boxes and clothes, as far away from it as I could get. I stop crime-fighting to visit Gwen's grave every day. I bring her flowers, for all those times that I forgot to. But they're so lonely on her tombstone. It's cold whenever I visit, because Gwen took all the warmth when they put her in the ground. But that's okay, I like feeling numbs. It helps dull the pain.

But, no matter what, its still there. A crack spreads along the dam stowing my emotions away. The _it's my fault_ , the _what I have I done_ , the _no - no what have I done_ , and the endless bounds of _I'm sorry_. It all leaks through, becoming a trickle that erupts into one gigantic, overwhelming wave. How can I go back to being Spider-Man, if I can't even save those closest to me? I can I save an entire city, when I can't save my family.

I miss you Gwen…so, _so much._

I want to blame Harry. I wish I could aim all my anger and frustration out on him. He was the one of had taken Gwen in the first place, knowing it would hurt me. But that was the problem. Me. Me, me, me, me, me, ME. Because of _me_ , Gwen was targeted.

So I can't put it on Harry. I have to take responsibility for my own actions.

It's a while before I finally take the costume back out. It's red, and blue, and terrible, and painful, but Gwen would want me to keep fighting, so would Uncle Ben, and Captain Stacy. They fought till their dying breaths, and so will I. I still have other's to protect. Aunt May won't be taken from me, I'll make sure of it.

So I go back out there. I watch over my city from attacking villains with false smiles and a witty shield. I'll learn from my mistakes. I'll make sure it won't happen again. I promise, Uncle Ben, Captain Stacy, Gwen, even you Harry - I promise I'll make things right.

They can't see me weak, I have to stay strong. For my city. For all those who've died in my hands, or who've changed because of me.

I have to keep going, pushing forward.

And go, because if I don't, who will?

Head up. Back straight. Deep breath. And go.

 _Head up._

 _Back straight._

 _Deep breath..._

 _...and go…_

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 _The yellow rose was inspired by one of aloneintherain 's fics, so that goes to her._

 _I hope you enjoyed. It was something I posted in AO3, but I decided to edit and repost it. Thanks for reading! 3_


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